Faye Brown

Faye Brown, obtained from The Marshall Project.

Faye Brown’s story is one of perseverance, of strength, of altruism—and of injustice. 

Faye was born on March 18, 1953. She grew up in Garysburg, North Carolina, in a family of 12. Though her family was poor—her father worked in a saw mill, her mother at a sewing factory—Faye’s parents ensured that their children received a sound education. As Ola, Faye’s sister, recounted in a television special on her case: “Faye was very smart, and she was very opinionated … she would go to school, she would do her work, and she always made straight A’s.” Faye’s dedication to academics paid off; she was recognized by teachers as having “extraordinary intelligence and a will to study” and made valedictorian at her junior high graduation.

Growing up in the Jim Crow South, however, was emotionally and physically demanding—especially in school. After junior high, Faye was bussed to a majority white school miles away. She recalled “clain signs up and down the highway” and intense racial discrimination and tension. Feeling unwelcome, Faye gave up her academic career, dropping out of the school in tenth grade. 

Five years later, Faye was sentenced to death—and later life in prison—for a crime she did not commit. Like so many women locked in the justice system, Faye was incarcerated for the actions of a male acquaintance. She was only 23. After over four decades of imprisonment, Faye tested positive for COVID-19 at the North Carolina Correctional Institution for Women; she was hospitalized April 19, 2020. Faye passed away on May 6 at the age of 67, after a long battle with the virus. 

After her mother passed away in 1991, Faye again devoted her life to her parents’ wish: that their children receive an education. She earned her bachelor’s degree, received certification in hair styling, and began teaching others at Sherill’s University of Barber and Cosmetology in Raleigh, North Carolina. She started working there full-time in 2005. 

Inside the correctional institution, Faye was warm and compassionate — a leader, a mentor, and, to many, a grandmother. As Emily Coward, an attorney with the North Carolina Prisoner Legal Service, recalled in an interview with the News & Observer, Faye “steered the young [incarcerated individuals] towards school programs, told them not to cross the correctional officers and warned them on which [incarcerated people] to avoid if they wanted to keep from trouble.” Faye took countless people under her wing. In an interview with The Marshall Project, Miea Walker, who served 9 years with Faye, described her friend as “quiet, prayerful, and generous,” but also forceful. When there were arguments or tension among women, Miea recalled that Faye would intervene, saying, “Okay, that’s not happening. Everyone goes to bed.”

Another friend, Pamela Humphrey, described Faye as “a classy lady and a true friend in an atmosphere of friendlessness.” To many, she was a confidant and “like a mother or grandmother.” Beyond being a wonderful friend, Faye was an altruistic member of the community, working in a homeless shelter and in a popular “meet-and-three” diner. 

In 2009, Faye and a group of fellow incarcerated women sought release, contending that they were sentenced at a time in the 1970s when “life sentence” meant no longer than 80 years. Given their extensive work in education and community service, Faye and her peers argued that their time should be reduced. Many—including Faye’s employer and Mary Pollard, the executive director of the non-profit North Carolina Prisoner Legal Services—argued that Faye should be freed: there was “really no public safety reason” to keep her behind bars. In 2010, however, the Supreme Court ruled against Faye.

Faye was the first incarcerated woman to die at the North Carolina Correctional Institution for Women. The virus had spread there from the minimum-security camp along South State Street. According to incarcerated individuals, it was “impossible to socially distance at the facility.” Their lack of sanitary and other protection was inhumane and, in Faye’s case, fatal. 

Friends protesting Faye’s death and crowded prison conditions, courtesy of Julia Wall, by way of The News & Observer.

In May, twenty formerly incarcerated women gathered outside of the Southeast Raleigh prison, decrying Faye’s death and protesting the crowded conditions. Their shirts read “Faye Finally Free.” 

Faye dedicated her life to challenging the narrative of women caught up in the justice system—uplifting a group of women who are too often overlooked and abused. She fought for herself, for her friends, and for her community. A true guardian angel, Faye bettered the lives of everyone she encountered. She will be dearly missed.

This memorial was written by MOL team member Frances Keohane with information from reporting by WEtv, Cary Aspinwall, Keri Blakinger, and Joseph Neff of The Marshall Project, Dan Kane and Ames Alexander of The State, Josh Shaffer of the News & Observer, and Melissa Jelsten of The Huffington Post.

Messages and Memories

Miss Faye was like a mother to me and lots of other women in NCCIW. I remember her for her kindness and the love she had for others. Faye had a heart of gold and was a great source of inspiration to me. I will forever love and miss her.

- Sherry Bowes